


In the Lee of Thy Magick

by Metalkatt



Category: The Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-16
Updated: 2007-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metalkatt/pseuds/Metalkatt
Summary: Where is the lee of Harry's magic?





	In the Lee of Thy Magick

Smoke billowed and bloomed about us, and if I'd been able to breathe, I would have been coughing as hard as my young ward. I sighed, controlling my instinct to immediately begin lecturing. He wouldn't be able to hear me yet, and judging from his footfalls, he was stumbling to the window to crack it open. It was a full five minutes before the haze cleared enough for us to see the room about us--it was not, as I had feared it would be, in shambles, though the table was covered in chartreuse powder.

"Why?" he demanded, glaring over at me. Harry'd been an attractive child, and was becoming an ugly teenager, though when he matured, he would grow into himself again, I was sure. "I did everything right. Everything. The words, the motions, the aloe vera juice, all of it. What went wrong?"

I sighed, compassion touching my eyes. Perhaps I'd gone soft, but even his angry outbursts were charming on occasion... especially when he was finely coated in glowing green dust. "Harry, I think we're miscommunicating somewhere. 'Thrice to the widdershins turn, and in the lee of thy magick lay thy target.'"

He growled, wiping his hands over his face--the look of horror when his palms came away smeared with yellow-green was amusing, and I couldn't stifle the snicker.

"This. ISN'T. Funny!" he growled, glaring harder. My Harry, my dear, idiot boy, with more power than a draft horse, and less control than a blazing inferno. I'd stopped trying to remember when I'd become so possessive of him; he was mine, and that was the way it had always been, as far as we were concerned.

"Yes, it is." I flicked my gaze over to the basin and ewer, directing his attention. "Wash your face and hands, and then wet the cloth. I think I know what the problem is."

"What is it?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at me.

"In just a few minutes, I'll show you."

He sighed, the irritation obvious, but he complied, washing himself. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because," I replied, hint of a smile never leaving my lips, it will have far more impact if I show you. Always show, Harry. Not tell."

The way his head shifted and moved, I rather guessed he'd scrunched up his nose to mock me; he often did when he was irritated with me, and thought I wasn't looking. I watched him lave himself, then dip the cloth in again and wring it out before turning to look at me. He still sparkled with fluorescence, but it was far less noticeable now. "All right?"

"Tsk. So impatient." I nodded toward the table, stepping over the stone floor to where it stood. "Wipe up the powder, but don't move the candelabra, the book, or the implements." My grin only grew as he tossed me a look of irritated confusion, then snorted like a young bull and moved to do it.

"I can't get it all," he grumped after a few moments. Most of the surface was clean, though streaks of powder remained here and there in places too small for his fingers to clean.

"I know," I murmured, moving up beside him. "Each one of these places is in the lee of your cleaning path. They're protected from the water and cloth, and while the powder may have shifted a little from the air currents, you cannot harm them." He looked over at me, and I returned the gaze with yet another smile, one that spread to his own lips as understanding alighted. "That's your goal, Harry, to learn the pathways your magic naturally takes, and learn how to cast so your target is inside those safe places. If I had my druthers, I'd take you to a field of dandelions, or possibly a grove of dogwood or cherry trees... when you make the blossoms dance and swirl, we can see how you channel and work with that."

"Can always ask Uncle Justin for a day pass, I suppose," he murmured, though we both knew it was as likely as my return to mortality. "But, maybe we can make our own..." The light of creativity sparkled in his eyes, and his generous lips lifted in a grin. "C'mon, Bob," he hummed, reaching out to scoop my skull from the table. "Let's go cataloguing."


End file.
